January 25th, 2005


Dear Sweet Christ on Melba Toast.

I don't even know what Melba toast is, but I have a feeling it's not unlike the tiny cracker things given to infants as they teeth. You know, the ones that look like biscotti and are brown. Yeah, those ones.

The point is this: my work is a many headed hydra. This is redundant, so I shall say it again, but better. My work is a hydra. It devours me with teeth that drip venom, and also it has red beady eyes on all of it's heads. Even the ones that grow back after I cut them off.

My work is Legion. It has the Mark in the middle of its forehead. It can quote scripture to suit its purposes. Get thee behind me, work.

My work is as the wyrm that devours. It is the many mouthed beast on the frozen lake, chewing happily on Brutus, Judas and ...that other guy who's name I know but cannot currently remember. Why can I not remember it, you may ask?

And I will answer: I cannot answer it because Nifra is away from her brain right now, but if you'd like to leave a message, please speak after the tone. Thanks, bye!

Oh my god. I'm two weeks into the semester and my brain is already telling me that it's time to pack up shop, buy a cheap pair of plastic sunglasses that look like something an eighty year old woman would wear, rent a convertable and drive far into the desert. Possibly have a torrid affair with a young Brad Pitt and sexual tension with Susan Sarandon while I'm at it, and then drive off a cliff.

Another thing of import: where the fuck does corn from? I thought it was an American only kind of thing -- you know, maize, Pocahontas the whole nine yards -- and yet the more I read of medieval British history the more I hear about a "luxury of corn". Is it metaphorical corn? Corn, as in a symbol of all grains? Corn, as in a poor translation of an old English word for "grass"? Corn, which secretely means "A nation of Ioans dancing naked, and waiting for you by the light of the moon many hundreds of years too early for you to appropriately appreciate them, Nifra. Put that in your chai tea and drink it."

Also. I love happyminion, and I miss you Wendi and I wish you all manner of good things involving naked men and chocolate sauce (perhaps seperately, perhaps together, whichever you prefer) as you are a wonderful and gracious lady, and I wish you a happy belated birthday, and Ms. Shrift, you know I adore you and wish you the same because OMG you're just incredibly sassy and smart and do so many cool THINGS and write such SCORCHINGLY good fic, and oh my GOD this corn thing is going to bother me until I figure it out.

Now, however, I shall away into my bed so that a mind which as been most sorely and greivously abused by the nigh unto lobotomizing forces of homework may rest, and rally forces for tommorow's assault upon the gates of learning. Hear ye, hear ye.
  • Current Music
    Rain King-Counting Crows
get yr RIFT ON! - slod

A slow descending funk.

First off, thank you to everyone who chimed in with explanations of how corn was in Britain back in the day (and when I say day, I mean like, Romano-Britain, because, y'all CENTRAL HEATING and SPAS before electricty). And for sageness, who asked about what Melba-fies toast, and thus peaked my abiding interest in culinary history (I am a ridiculous dork):

The familiar foods named for Helen Porter Mitchell are not recognizable as such unless one knows her stage name was Dame Nellie Melba. This famous opera singer of the late 19th and early 20th century, who took her last name from her native city of Melbourne, inspired others to honor her by naming things such as “soaps and sauces, ribbons and ruffles” after her. Perhaps the best known of such honors are Melba toast and peach Melba. Auguste Escoffier, the famous chef, is thought to have had a hand in both. Melba toast is said to be derived from the crisp toast that was part of Dame Melba's diet during the year 1897, a year in which she was very ill. The hotel proprietor César Ritz supposedly named it in a conversation with Escoffier. Pêche Melba was said to have been created by Escoffier for an 1892 party honoring the singer at the Savoy Hotel in London, although neither Escoffier nor Melba agreed with this version of events. Peach Melba is first recorded in English in 1905 (in the form Pêches à la Melba) and Melba toast in 1925.
The American Heritage Dictonary of the English Language: Fourth Edition.

So there's your fun fact for the day, cool cats and chilly kittens.


Dear Buffy Season 7,

I don't even know what to say to you. I thought I knew who you were, once, but I guess you've changed. Why you gotta be wastin' my flava?

No love and much resentment,



Dear Marti Noxon,

Please, step away from your weird rape issues, and put the keyboard down.

Concern for your mental health,



It seems as though it has been years since I wrote anything that was not academic in nature. This is displeasing to me. And so now, in this space where I used to offer stories, I offer now, only memes.

Remember, estrella30 and musesfool: I yoink because I love.

Meme the first: 1. Comment with any subject that you would like me to rant on, with possible swearing involved. any subject - I don't even have to agree with it. (swearing is probable)

2. Watch my journal for your rant.

3. Post this in your own journal, so that you may rant for others.

Meme the second: Tell me something about you. Favorite character. Favorite food. Something funny you do. Whatever you like. Just make it something that gives me a sense of who you are.

There's no pressure to participate, of course. If you'd rather just lurk, that's fine, too. But if you feel like coming out of the woodwork, I'd love to hear from you!

Here are some me-things:

1.. I do all of my best thinking in the shower. Consequently, I have been known to shower three times a day during the end of the semester.

2. I hate getting any kind of food on my finger tips, and so I don't particularly like Cheetos or Doritos or anything like that. I just think about the fact that no matter how many times I pull out my trusty hand sanitizer stuff, when I lick my fingers, there's going to be stuff on them that I don't neccesarily want to lick. Particularly if I've been in the subway or something.

3. I secretly believe that wearing earrings is what makes me able to face the day. Maybe not so secretly anymore, actually, seeing as how I'm posting it in your LJ. Hmm.

4. I used to have anxiety dreams about leg hair, and wake up in the middle of the night and have to shave immediately. I've gotten over that.

5. I love all those vegetables that people are supposed to hate and despise: brussels sprouts, lima beans, spinach, broccoli. Love 'em. I won't, though, eat meatloaf. Under any circumstances. I also have a hate on for rice.
  • Current Music
    As Cool As I Am-Dar Williams
ew bitch - crazyperfume

Rant the First: Doormat!Fraser/Asshole!Rayk

"I hate you," screamed Ray, smacking a hand against the wall. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

Fraser paused while giving him a blow job. "Then, should I go? I'd hate to inconveince you --"

"NO!" Ray yelled, this time louder. "No, you freak! Keep doing that, but remember I'm not gay, and I'm not ever going to want you back and you disgust me, okay? Don't get ideas, or nothin'!"

"Understood," Fraser said, before bending his head again.

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  • Current Mood
    artistic artistic

Rant 2: Cry to your mommy about it, why don't you?

Tears are like bay leaves: they are best used sparingly, if at all.

I mean, okay, bay leaves are fine in chicken soup, and on pot pies and tears are appropriate in certain situations, but you start throwing bay leaves in lentil soup and making quarterbacks cry because they've been sent to their rooms, and you've set yourself up for disaster.

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  • Current Mood
    bouncy bouncy
giles mack daddy

Rant 3: The season of my discontent. A rant for vorsythia.

It started out *so good*. What Buffy the Vampire Slayer and I had together was something *special*. She was young, and flighty, and irresponsible and she made bad decisions and was just like anyone else -- except she saved the world alot. Which is somewhat different from remembering to bring your car to the carwash when it got dirty, but hey, a girl's got to take pride in something, right?

Then out of NOWHERE Spike had hair that looked like Ramen, Dawn started to make *sense* in a horrific way (sorry fox1013), the substance abuse metaphor with Willow and magic went HIDEOUSLY awry, and Buffy's tendency toward being kind of bitch exploded into her being basically psychotic, and Xander was only there sometimes. Also, there were like nine hundred people in Buffy's house, and suddenly? All I cared about was Andrew.

Because Andrew was being defeated by the funnel cake, and making a big white board map of Sunnydale, and wearing an apron and calling himself a "guestage" rather than a "hostage".

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  • Current Music
    Like A Rolling Stone-Bob Dylan